(no subject)

[mrbrown189]

"Shaking like a dog shittin' razorblades,
waking up next to nothing after dreaming of you and me
I'm waking up all alone, waking up so relieved
while you're taking your time with apologies,
I'm making my plans for revenge."

-Alkaline Trio

She brushed the broken glass from her shoulder and took another sip of her cranberry and vodka cocktail.
Sure, someone had just shot through the window from the outside.
And sure, everyone left the room like scurrying mice.
Back to your holes she thought.
Chairs and coffee tables and love seats and lamps lay in a jagged display around the room.
Not a light shone in the room , all the lamps had shattered.
The only light that had shown was the pale moonlight which fell upon the shoulder the broken glass had once been.
She had spent the better part of the night making it known to everyone in the room that she was available.
Not just available, but available.
She wore her shortest skirt and her most flattering shirt.
This was the third night she had spent in the barn turned into apartment.
Each night was a dud. Not only did she fail to get the attention of any of the men at the party, she failed at making their night.
This night was different. She had found the perfect candidate.
He was clearly new to the party scene. Clearly a guy like that would be grateful to have anything thrown his way.
We'll get back to her, sitting perfectly still smoking her mom's menthol cigarette,
waiting for him to come through the window.
She'll  be there still. Just for a little bit.

"Hey, what are you drinking?
That was her, pouty lips and fluttering eyelashes.
Making her strictly business face.
Please, I haven't fucked in weeks for god's sake, face.
The one that said most of what she wanted without the words.
"Hi, um just water." He laughed after this, like it was the funniest thing he had ever heard.
You could also hear the shame in his voice though.
The only guy here drinking tap water.
Har har.
"Maybe you should have some of mine?"
She held the glass of vodka, straight vodka, strictly fucking business vodka, out to the gawky and geeky, but somehow cute boy.
All he was was a boy after all.
An 18 year old boy.
He looked at the glass with a grim expression, then held it under his nose.
"Jesus Christ, it smells like....like...rubbing alcohol and nail polish."
"Come on.....please?" She said this while pouting out her bottom lip.
He looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since she sat down on the torn and badly worn couch.
Her face was clear and looked like it would feel smooth under his finger tips.
Her dark her framed her somewhat pale face perfectly.
All he smelled before she had sat down was the sour musk of ancient beer, from countless parties ,that had been spilt and seeped into the couch.
Now he smelled flowers, sweet and intoxicating.
He pressed the rim of the glass to his lips and let the nail polish and rubbing alcohol taste fill his mouth.
He drank half the glass before his face twisted  and he coughed.
His eyes teared up and he started laughing.
"Yeah, taste just like it smells." He said and laughed a little more.
"You've never drank before? And how old are you?" she said after his laughing fit was over.
What a fucking basket case she thought.
"My mom let me have a glass of wine at her second wedding, but that was it."
Grate now he's talking about his mom.
"Well tonight’s gunna be a lot more then one glass of wine." She said, thinking that was the funniest thing she had ever heard.

So he drank.
This was the first girl that had talked to him since he was here. He was what you would call a regular. His friend lived in the apartment. He noticed that more recently his friend threw more and more parties.
He parted ways with his computer and his games and his one good hobby, writing, to pursue a life of drinking and girls.
The boy was to stubborn to part ways with his old friend, his old hangout, and relented in going over almost every night.
It wasn't like he wasn't invited. Everyone knew him. Everyone just knew he'd go away after awhile. He did not party.
He keep coming though. His friends were easily countable on one hand and this was the only place he felt welcome.
So after a number of shots easily countable on two hands, three if you had it, he felt like he finally clicked into place.
"One second, I'm gunna go take a piss."
He slurred, got up and stumbled to the bathroom.
The room, despite the snow coating the ground outside, felt warm and smooth to him now.
His concerns left him and his new goal was singular.
He was drunk and he was temporarily in love.
People he had seen there usually, but would never talk to, looked like old friends.
He clung to girls he saw regularly, laughed at every ones jokes, and learned then forgot new names.
Gazing into the mirror, halfway during his piss, he fixed his hair and made a variety of faces he considered his most handsome.
Looking down, he saw that he had horribly missed the toilet and splashed the seat and the floor.
No biggy he thought It already looks like shit no matter how much shit is on it.
It had too. It was the one sober and battle scared member of every party (including the couch) the apartment had held.
He found this thought funny, very funny indeed, and laughed inside the bathroom.
His laugh echoed back from the shower, which two people were currently using he just noticed, and he thought he sounded hysterical.

And so she drank.
She drank from glasses lying around, she drank from bottles half full,
and she drank the occasional beer (it tastes like piss she thought).
Men glanced at her.
They whispered to each other and broke apart laughing.
And if you were there, and sober, or just had a few drinks in you.
Just a few.
You would of laughed.
You would of laughed in her face.
She was stumbling back and forth, talking to anyone who's attention she could get for more then a few seconds.
"Jerry, and Matt, and Mike, and Josh, .......and Jerry.......oh wait did I say his name already? Oh my god! I've blown that many guys."
She held a finger up for each name she said.
You would of laughed in her face.
It was hard for anyone to believe she talked like that.
Hard to believe that some one who could get up and get dressed on their own ( as far as they knew) could possibly talk like that.
"Someone call the ambulance, ten bucks says she's out in the next 30 minutes."
Another wave of laughter rushed over to her from the other side of the room.
Maybe she knew she just a walking joke.
Just the clown at the party.
Would you like a balloon mister? No? How about a blow job then?
This thought did not depress her though.
At least we have to guess it didn't because she continued to hit on almost every guy there.
When one laughed at her, ridiculed her, or just simply walked away, she picked up the pieces and started with someone knew.
When she saw the geeky boy again, and when he saw her, it was almost comical how they rushed to each other.
No.
It was fucking hilarious.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"
They were on the love seat now. It faired better then the couch they had previously occupied.
Not by much though.
"I had a girlfriend once." He said somewhat remorsefully. "She's fucking some guys brains out now."
I can't believe I just told her that.
She laughed though, and he laughed with her.
" I had a boyfriend once too."
"I never had a boyfriend."
"You know what I mean you fucking asshole."
"Ok you had a boyfriend.....and.."
She paused to light one of the menthol cigarettes she had taken from her mom's purse.
She was just a girl still.
A sixteen year old girl.
"And I fucked his brains out."
The smoke from the first drag of her cigarette came out as she said this.
I can't believe she just told me that.
Although he had tried smoking once and went into a coughing fit after the first drag, he asked the girl for a cigarette.
"No." She plainly said and offered a smile.
He thought of it as a joke then realized she really wasn't giving one up.
"Probably better that I didn't, thanks for looking out for me."
"Yeah okay. So where are you sleeping tonight?"
"Ahh I don't know, ...probably right here in this seat." he said slapping the cushion underneath his thighs.
"That's not gunna be big enough for both of us." she said in the same tone.
His eyes flew open then. A girl talking to him was enough, but sleeping with him.
That was more, that was fucking Christmas.
"Ah.... um....shit I don't know then." He was at a lost.
After all those shots he felt as though his circuits were fried. Mother board covered in sticky warm maple syrup.
It felt good. And her hand on his knee felt better then that.
She leaned over and kissed him on the lips then.
If he was sober it would of felt warm and wet.
Sloppy in other words.
If he were of mind it would of felt like his Aunts dog had jumped onto his face.
This was a girl though.
Hairless and smooth and beautiful.
To the other men there she was a dog.
Maybe.
They were drunk sure.
But they had their girls.
To him it felt warm sure, her smooth lips pressed against his, her tongue moving lazily in his mouth.
All he could think was a warm sunny day.
Thats what it felt like to him.
It sounds crazy to all of us. But have you tried to describe the moment that a kiss actually meant something to you?
Thats the best he could do.
"You taste like mint and beer." He said once they, or should I say she, pulled away from him.
"You taste like vodka and Dorritos." She said sourly.
"Yeah sorry I found them in the kitchen." The expression on his face when he said this was one of a
little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Thats nice." She said taking another drag off her cigarette. She threw it on the floor but did not bother stomping it out.
"Well find us a fucking room to sleep in."

He pleaded his case to his old friend.
"Finally getting laid! Geeeez none of us knew when you'd finally get some."
"Yeah I'm glad everyone talks about it. Um..I'm kinda fucked though.
I need somewhere to sleep....well I need somewhere to ...you know..."
His face turned red as he said this.
He looked down at his shoes and kicked around the dirt on the floor.
When he looked up his old friend had a sharks grin on his face.
All his teeth were clearly visible.
His big white teeth. In that moment he felt a jar of butterflies released in his stomach.
"Ohhh my little buddy. You want to know if you can use my room. My bed. Fuck on my sheets."
He felt ashamed and horribly desperate.
Now I'm begging my friends to help me get laid. Fucking great.
"Please, you got to help me. She's so beautiful. Shes so....so....god damn. Please man."
"Are you talking about that train wreck stumbling around hitting on anything with a cock?"
It must of been something in his eyes that made him flinch.
The look on the boy, our boys, face was that of sheer hurt.
Hurt and somewhere down deeper hatred.
"20 bucks. 20 bucks and it's all yours my friend."
"Thank you. Jesus Christ thank you.” he said walking back to her, walking back to tell her the good news.
"Hey man."
"Yeah?"
"Just change the fucking sheets when you're done. Eh?"

When he got back into the smoky room, surrounded by sheet rock filled with fist-sized holes and large colorful graffiti, the first thing he saw was her sitting with the other guy.
He silently walked over, ignoring everyone else around him.
People tried getting his attention. He heard his name a few times. He was offered more drinks.
He ignored them all. All he focused on was the hand around the shoulder and the hand on the knee.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"Oh hey....what's up?"
The other guy offered him a "Hey, cock block, I'm kinda busy here" look.
The boy shrugged it off and continued to talk to the girl.
"Umm I got us a bed like you told me too."
"Oh awesome, ok hey this is-"
"I don't give a shit who this guy is, are we going to bed soon?"
"Yeah in a little bit."
So he sat, he sat and he watched.
Her and the other guy talked and laughed.
She'd drink some more, light another cigarette, and blow the smoke in the boys direction.
Right in his fucking direction.
He had his on pack now, one that he bought off someone in the party who could safely part ways with it.
He got through half the pack before the girl finally told him she was ready for bed.

"Baby,”
"I love being called baby."
"Really? Well babe I love calling you it."
"Ew gross, no, not babe. Baby."
They were both stinking drunk, and if he heard all of this in morning he would laugh.
He would laugh at himself.
Baby?
Babe?
He barely knew the god damn girl!
Drunk and in love.
They were lying in bed now and he felt her move on top of him.
She was wearing the same mini skirt she will be wearing when we return to her sitting perfectly still on the couch.
Although he was drunk he knew enough to know this moment meant something.
He said "You know this means so much to me right now?"
"Just shut up."
"I'm sorry."
When she was done she simply got off from on top of him and walked out of the room.
He was asleep only a few moments after they were done.
Fast enough not to notice her walk out of the room.
She didn't hear him say I love you.

When he woke up a few hours later ( the sun still hadn't come up yet) the first thing he
noticed was the sticky and wet feeling from his crotch.
"Oh fucking ass." he whispered.
Then he noticed she was gone.
He bolted out of bed at that point. His head started to slowly ache, not much,
but enough for him to know that there was a bitch of a hangover to come.
After putting his pants back on he walked calmly out of the room.
She’s just in the bathroom, that’s it that's got to be it.
He would soon realize that that was simply not the case.

Everyone was asleep. Everyone.
Kids on the floor. Kids on the couch and on the loveseat.
Lifting up blankets and pillows and hearing more then enough of "What the fuck man"s then he needed he realized that she simply was not here anymore.
I'll check outside. Even though it's 20 degrees out I'll check.
He didn't bother putting shoes on, he was scared.
Scared that what all that meant to him.
Everything that happened between them.
Meant absolutely nothing to her.
That thought fucking scared him.
The snow felt cold and under his feet.
Burned his feet. He was dimly aware of this. The snow did not crunch like it would do with shoes or boots.
It just engulfed his feet, turning then into two ice blocks.
He began looking around at all the cars that occupied the the huge dirt driveway (dirt in the summer anyways) that night and almost every night.
One truck caught his eye. All the other cars just stood still, dead and defeated in the cold harsh winter air.
Ancient ruins for the night until everyone got up and stomached their hangovers then drove home.
This truck moved slightly.
The windows were fogged and he didn't have to be the biggest horn dog in town to know what that meant.
No. no. no. That's just two other people. That's just two other losers from the party, fucking and talking and smoking the night away.
The truck rocked from side to side, and if he listened closely he could hear.
He could hear them.
Her voice was clearly audible.
Walking calmly to the truck, his feet still two ice blocks sinking and not crunching into the snow, he reached the door and touched the handle.

He did not move now. Only listened. Turning around he slowly slunk down until he was sitting.

He sat still under the truck door with snow running into the seat of his pants.

No reaction though, just shock. Stretching his arms out he put his head down and wept.

“ I deserve better then this.” He whispered.

No one heard.

The next morning everyone who had jobs, or just wanted to leave left.

They would be back that night, the sunken ship of an apartment would lose it’s water and float again.

All the rats could scurry back only to run away once it started sinking again.

“Where did…..uh fuck I never even asked for his name…go?” She said to anyone still there.

No one knew where he had went last night, all anyone knew was that he was not there.

Not uncommon, they all assumed he would be back there that night like always.

She flirted her way into every meal she ate and took a long hot shower before the party would begin later that day.

So here we are, there she is sitting perfectly still.

Inhaling, drinking, swallowing, exhaling.

She could hear the commotion in the other room where all the people had run off too.

“Someone call the cops! Fucking AHHH someone call an ambulance!”

“I think I’m shot! I think I’m fucking shot!”

and simply just “AHHHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHH!”

His footsteps were louder though.

Crunch…. crunch…crunch…. the distinct sound of boots crushing snow.

He started to punch out the remaining glass in the window, then swung a leg in.

Then the other.

He calmly sat down next to her.

“Hey baby. Can I have a cigarette?”

She turned to him and simply offered nothing but a blank stare.

….click…..

“Pretty please babe?” Whiskey. He reeked of the shit. His breath made her eyes water.

She gazed still at what had made the click noise.

“Where did you get that?”

“Don’t fucking worry where I got it! It’s my fucking Dad’s. Now how about that cigarette baby?”

She slid one smoothly out of the pack and held it out to him.

He inhaled, then coughed hard.

“Fucking menthol, my Dad calls them nigger sticks. You know I’ve been thinking about you babe? I have. All fucking night. All night.”

His eyes were blood shot and huge bags hung like curtains from his eyes.

The neatly combed hair from last night was now sticking up in random places.

“You fucking ruined me. You now what that’s like? You know what that’s like baby?” The door crashed open then.

The other guy charged in at that point. His expression was sheer aggression and fright.

“Look who it fucking is!” he said as he raised the gun.

The other guy simply looked at it dumbfounded, like a deer caught in the headlights.

He squeezed off two rounds, one into the other guys chest, the other in his neck.

Blood squirted out of both new holes in this mans body.

The girl sitting perfectly calmly still was splashed in thick red blood.
He crashed into the floor and made horrible gulping sounds for the next few minutes.

Then he was silent.

“You see what you made me do? You bitch! You fucking bitch!” He went after her then.

Sirens, distant, began growing louder and louder.

“You called the fucking cops? You called the fucking cops you stupid bitch!”

He was on top of her now, wanting to punch, wanting to scratch and bite and tear.

He couldn’t though. He loved her.

“Get the fuck off her and drop the weapon.”

He knew it was over, so he leaned over to her and ear and said

“Baby, you ruined me.”

He stood then and pointed his gun.

The room burst with light and noise. His body appeared to be dancing to a strobe light, but in reality was being filled with bullets.

He fell to the ground, facing the girl.

She screamed.

She never wanted to be called baby again.

No none of that happened to me, sam brown..